


brilliant

by gigglesandfreckles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Healthy Jedi Communication, Hurt/Comfort, I am just as amazed as you are that I actually wrote this, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi GIVES A HUG, Post-AotC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglesandfreckles/pseuds/gigglesandfreckles
Summary: Anakin is having a difficult time adjusting to his new mechno-arm for one very specific reason.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 32
Kudos: 370





	brilliant

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, uh huh, that's right–I wrote an Obi & Ani fic that involves PROPER COMMUNICATION!!!!!! Can I get some applause? 
> 
> ANYWAY–please enjoy the result of me teaching my students how to create circuits today and one of them refusing my offer to help until they shocked their fingers on the lightbulb in stubbornness. I teach thirteen and fourteen-year-olds but how different is a nineteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker *really?*

“I like it.”

Anakin looked up from where had been fiddling with his arm with a start. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me.” Obi-Wan offered a small smile. “Can I see?”

Anakin held his arm out, letting it hang tiredly between them. Obi-Wan grabbed it, carefully. He was unsure of how to handle something like this. Jedi had lost limbs before–it was admittedly more common within the Order than one would think–but what to do when it was your _padawan_ had never been taught to him.

Of course, so few things about being a master ever had.

“It’s shiny,” Obi-Wan offered. “I’m sure Artoo considers that an upgrade.”

Anakin managed half a chuckle at that. 

“Bant said things went smoothly?”

“I guess,” Anakin shrugged, his eyes fixed on the mechno-arm. “I was asleep for all of it.”

“But it doesn’t hurt at all?”

“No,” Anakin shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt.”

They stood awkwardly, then. In all of their years as master and padawan, they’d never run out of things to say. While the constant questions and incessant comments from his apprentice had annoyed Obi-Wan for the first few months, he felt bereft without them now.

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He had enough self-awareness to know exactly what was stopping his ability to make conversation: guilt. Guilt that he hadn’t done enough, guilt that he hadn’t been able to stop it–

Guilt that he’d waited two days to come see Anakin in the Halls of Healing. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around. The Council has been–”

“S’okay,” Anakin nodded, quickly. 

“Bant was keeping me updated, of course,” Obi-Wan babbled on, suddenly full of nothing _but_ conversation. “She said you were an excellent patient. Far better than me, as she loved to emphasise. Said you never even tried to run away. Of course, I told her that–”

“Master,” interrupted Anakin. He looked tired. “I’d really rather be alone right now, if that’s okay.”

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered. He tried to replace his shock and disappointment with a smile. “Of course. I’ll just, er–leave you to it, then.”

Anakin nodded, respectfully. Before he turned to leave, Obi-Wan gave a quick effort at reaching into their bond, hoping he could discover whatever emotions were storming around in Anakin’s mind. He was upset–that much was obvious. 

Obi-Wan was reminded of all the times Qui-Gon had fallen just short of the affection he had desired as a padawan. As much as Obi-Wan hated to dwell on the negative aspects of his relationship with his former master, Qui-Gon’s tendency to be reserved and keep Obi-Wan at an arm’s length was something he’d never really gotten used to. 

It was something he’d tried to be mindful of with Anakin over the years. 

Something that had backfired quite hard on him, he thought, not for the first time, as he considered how dangerously attached he’d become to his padawan.

But now, even with their near perfect synchronisation in the Force, he felt nothing. Just emptiness on Anakin’s end.

“Before I leave,” said Obi-Wan, vowing to himself that this would be it. If Anakin stayed clammed up, he’d go, “I just wanted to let you know that the council has decided–what are you doing?” 

Anakin didn’t look up from where he was tugging at one of the wires on his mechno-arm. He was biting his lip in the way Obi-Wan had come to memorise as Anakin’s expression of _ultimate_ determination. It had been a point of amusement for Obi-Wan as Anakin grew up, but he’d watched his padawan wear that expression in the midst of killing too many men by now to be fooled by its seeming innocence.

“Anakin?”

“Hmm?” Anakin looked up, suddenly. He seemed surprised to see Obi-Wan there. “Oh, I’m just trying to–” He withdrew his flesh hand quickly as a spark popped on his mechno-arm. “ _Kriff_. I’m trying to fix the calibration. It’s off.”

“Can I help in any way?”

Anakin tensed suddenly. “No,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “I’ve got it.”

“You’re working with your left hand. If you tell me what to do, I can–”

“I’m fine, Master.” Anakin held his hand to his chest. Away from Obi-Wan.

The older Jedi lowered his eyebrows. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not being _stubborn_. I just want to do it myself–”

“But you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“No, I’m not...”

“Would you just let me help you?”

“Master, no, I’m–”

“Anakin. You’re being difficult. Just–”

“I don’t want to–”

“ _Anakin_.”

“ _Get away from me!_ ” he all-but-screamed, jerking away from Obi-Wan like he had been burned.

Obi-Wan stared at the stranger in front of him.

Anakin took several deep breaths, his eyes peeled shut. His chest heaved shakily, but he still cradled his mechanical arm protectively close to his chest. Neither Jedi spoke for several minutes. Obi-Wan had known Anakin long enough to know how to handle his outbursts, but this was...different.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure _what_ to do.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin whispered after several eternities.

“I didn’t mean to push you,” said Obi-Wan. “I’m sorry, as well.”

“I don’t–” another deep breath. “I don’t know how to do anything anymore and I’m...I’m tired of feeling inadequate.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “It’s only been two days. And...you could never be inadequate.”

“I can’t write my _name_ , Master.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter. You hardly–”

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” said Anakin in a tone so miserable his master could hardly stand to listen to it. The older Jedi looked imploringly at his padawan.

“I can’t learn all of that again.” It was so quiet Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure if he had spoken at all.

“What?”

“You spent so much time...so many hours...and I was–” His flesh hand began to shake. “All for nothing.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s frown deepened. He ached to grab Anakin’s hand and steady it himself. “What are you talking about?”

There was silence, then, and Obi-Wan thought his padawan had decided not to answer at all, but then–

“You taught me how to write.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“You taught me how to write and fight and–and _everything_ and now, Master...I can’t do any of it–” His voice broke off.

Slowly– _gently_ –Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin, surprising the younger Jedi and crushing the mechno-arm between them. Obi-Wan had never been one to express his affection physically, but this was too _much_. It was his fault his padawan was even _in_ this situation, and now–

“Anakin, I taught you those things because I cared about you. That hasn’t changed,” he reassured the tall, gangly boy who was clutching at his robes. It had been a long time since he’d been required to comfort his padawan in this way–he’d been _shorter_ than Obi-Wan then.

“I taught you then and I’ll teach you again.”

“But Master...I was so _stupid_ and I–”

“Anakin,” said Obi-Wan, pulling back and looking his grown padawan in the eyes. “You have never _ever_ been stupid. You are one of the most brilliant men I know.”

It was like they’d been thrown into a time machine. Obi-Wan had lost track of the tutoring sessions that had ended in Anakin’s tears or anger at being unable to understand Jedi texts. No matter how many times Obi-Wan reassured Anakin that his illiteracy had _nothing_ to do with his potential to be a good Jedi or a good _person_ , the boy would shut down into a ball of self-loathing. 

If Obi-Wan hadn’t _hated_ the institution of slavery before, seeing the side-effects of it in his padawan had sealed the deal.

“You are _brilliant_ , Anakin. Do you understand me?” he demanded, slightly shaking Anakin’s shoulders.

Anakin wasn’t able to respond through his ragged breaths.

“I _treasure_ the memories of teaching you to read and write, my padawan,” said Obi-Wan. “And if this new arm calls for starting over, I will treasure that, too.”

The younger man regained some sense of normalcy in his breathing and managed a small nod. “Thank you, Master,” he hiccuped, “I’m...I’m sorry I let my emotions get the...best of me.”

At times, Obi-Wan thought Anakin’s emotions _were_ the best of him. But that was far, far, far beyond the reaches of the Jedi Code and something he could never say aloud. 

Instead, he settled for, “If you’re worried about learning how to fight, well–I think we all know you had room to grow in that area even with both of your hands.”

Anakin’s face twisted into a grin and he shoved Obi-Wan playfully. The older Jedi chose not to comment on how the added force of his new mechno-arm kind of... _hurt_.

“You wish, old man. This,” he held up his new arm, “may just be the best thing to ever happen to you. I hope you can sleep at night knowing your sparring victories only come from your one-armed padawan.”

“My one-armed padawan has much to learn if he thinks I’m going to take _that_ comment without proper retaliation.” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he’d smiled at _all_ since Geonosis–not a real smile anyway–but he should have never doubted the potential power of his student to completely alter his mood.

He’d been a coward to stay away from the Halls of Healing for this long, afraid of the anger he would find in his padawan at his being unable to protect him when it truly mattered. He should have _known_ the ire of Anakin’s anger would only be directed at himself. 

“What you said before,” Anakin had sobered a bit and his cheeks had taken on a light pint tint, “about teaching me to write again–did you...did you mean that?”

“Padawan, I will teach you anything and everything I can until the day I die.” Obi-Wan fixed his student with a determined smile. “That’s not a promise you can shake me from.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin smiled gratefully in return, before splitting into a grin. “But okay, be honest...it kind of makes me look like a badass, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! Thanks for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks, and love!!


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